


Henry's Wish Upon a Star

by DelicatePoem



Series: Swan Queen Week Winter 2017: Alternate Universes Cubed [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Day 4, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Strand of Hair, Swan Queen Week, Swan Queen Week Winter 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9556436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelicatePoem/pseuds/DelicatePoem
Summary: "[...] They say exclusively those with a love so rare and unique are gifted with powers. A wondrous myth passed through generations, forgotten. Souls equally strong and evenly balanced with one another. Manifested in different ways and forms: tattoos, colors, touches, words… But what made him pause his reading was when he’d read the next paragraph."Or, the one where there's no curse, only two people with a magical strand of hair each and destined to be with one another.Swan Queen Week: Day 4 - Soulmates AU





	1. Mamá te quiere mucho

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I'm late! Let's pretend I posted this yesterday? xD  
> This is my favorite piece so far. Divided into two chapters for... reasons.
> 
> Again, all and any mistakes are mine, but feel free to point those out.  
> Happy reading!

Every night, he’d lie down in bed and trace the glowing stars glued to the ceiling with his index finger, one eye closed and the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration. The pattern for his eight year old mind is intricate and the glow – it feels like magic. He senses these things like he can remember the good, fantastical dreams he has while asleep. They are beautiful adventures alongside his mom, while he protects her from the monsters hiding under the bed. He’s her little prince, and she’s told him he needn’t fear the monsters – with his true and brave heart he’d certainly overcome anything if only he believed he could.

Henry Mills is a true believer, and the fairy shouldn’t have meddled, no; when Mother Superior gets word of it, there will surely have consequences. But boys such as him are rare, and powerful. Also, Tinker Bell knows what will happen in little time. He’ll be faced with one truth he won’t be expecting, he won’t _want_ at first. Let’s just say this moment, on which Henry is still gazing and building stories from the simplicity around him, is a special one - she’s decided to grant him a wish.

And a wish he makes: formerly, opening his mouth in surprise, he brought his fists to his eyes in a show of uncharacteristic disbelief - to discern if what he was seeing wasn’t a trick of his massive imagination. Later, gaping at the most brilliant and shiny star, Henry closed his eyes and wished.

_I wish for my mom, Regina Mills, to be with her Soulmate if they ever do meet and fall in love._

Henry’s an avid reader. Anything related to fairy tales or magic, he’ll be reading. It is credible his maturity for certain subjects comes from the knowledge brought by his books. One time, his mother was running late at work and he got to spend the rest of his afternoon in the library. It was there he found The Book. Hidden behind others on the Geography books he’d been perusing, it caught his attention immediately.

He learned about the mysterious energies of soulmates. They say exclusively those with a love so rare and unique are gifted with powers. A wondrous myth passed through generations, forgotten. Souls equally strong and evenly balanced with one another. Manifested in different ways and forms: tattoos, colors, touches, words… But what made him pause his reading was when he’d read the next paragraph. ‘… _a strand of hair unlike no other, for example. Impossible to cut, impossible to dye, impossible to break, only assume the color of your Soulmates hair. For if someone ever tries to cut it, it will deteriorate and come back the next day, brand new_. _The only thing possible to do is to cut the other locks shorter, and the strand will certainly even out._ ’

What are the odds? The color of gold; a wavy, blonde, lovely strand of hair his mother possesses. The rest of her hair is almost black, a dark chocolate color that suits her perfectly. Regina hides the strange lock of hair – people usually comment on it and Henry knows now it bothers her, because Grandma Cora usually finds new creative ways to subtly criticize it.

Suddenly, he hears a noise, a little rattling sound coming from his window. He gets up, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity. There, knocking with the best of her abilities is a small, tiny human being.

A fairy.

He pushes the window open, trying to make as little noise as possible. The green-clad fairy flies to an empty space in his bedroom is enveloped by a green mist. She’s transformed into a human-sized fairy.

“Wow,” he widens his eyes in wonder.

“Hello, Mister Henry. I’m Tinker Bell. I’ve heard your wish and thought it was best if I gave you a piece of wisdom.” She pauses, motioning to his bed. “Come here, let’s sit.”

Henry can only nod. Peter Pan’s famous fairy, inside his house no less? Awesome!

After they accommodate themselves, she continues, “Your mum will meet her Soulmate soon, Henry. You just have to keep believing. Keep being the grand believer that you already are.” She smiles softly.

“So I was right? Yes!—” he fist pumps, but quickly realizes he has ultimately elevated his tone of voice, and winces, “Yes.” He whispers instead, still happy.

Tinker Bell laughs. “You certainly were, my boy. Now, please remember this: things may seem complicated in the near future, but the key is to have hope. Can you promise me that?”

“You bet! I won’t stop believing,” he puffs his chest. “I know my mom feels lonely right now, even if she tries her best to hide it from me… But I can… feel it, like Spider-Man senses things. Everything will turn out to be okay, right?” he asks while moving his legs back and forth. He’s slightly worried now that he stops to think about it.

“Yes, of course! Just know that love isn’t always a smooth road - there will be bumps along the way. They’ll overcome the obstacles.” Tinker Bell winces - she told the kid she has the information on who’s his mother’s Soulmate.

“Wait, you know my mom’s soulmate?” he gets so ecstatic he forgets he’s supposed to be in dream world, and has been speaking in louder and louder tones.

Soon, he hears a question of “Henry?” followed by his mom’s slipper steps towards his bedroom. Quickly, the boy gets the first comic book in his eyesight and opens it on a random page, blotting out the fact that a fairy is in his room.

The door opens and he gasps, turning his head first to his left side, but doesn’t find Tinker Bell anywhere. Afterwards, he lifts his head with a sheepish expression to his mom.

“Henry, you’re supposed to be sleeping!” she quietly admonishes him. “What are you doing awake at this hour, sweetheart?” Regina asks with her voice huskier from sleep, coming inside the bedroom and gently taking the comic book from him, setting it aside.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I…” he searches for a somewhat plausible answer. “Um… I… decided to try to do the voices from the comic books to see if I’d get sleepy?” It sounds more of a question in the end, but he figures it is better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She smiles at him, shaking her head, not really believing on what he said but letting it slide this time. “Get in bed, come on. I’ll stay here until you fall back asleep, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.” He grins and gets inside the covers, while she tucks him back in and stays sat on the edge of his bed.

His mom’s magical touch to his hair makes him sleepy in no time. Either way, she _has_ to clarify him on this matter. “Mom?”

“Yes, my little prince?”

“Was your hair blonde once?” Henry asks, fiddling with the blonde lock that is now visible only because she’s removed the pins and the other stuff she uses to hide it.

“No…” she becomes slightly tense; whenever this part of her is mentioned he notices she gets this way. “The strand of hair, though, has already been a light chocolate color back when I was a teenager. Slightly tinged with blue or pink on the tips for a few months, as well. Really strange, don’t you think?” she tilts her head to the side while brushing the bangs on his forehead to the side.

“Maybe it’s magic.” He innocently shrugs.

Before he’s carried in the arms of Morpheus, he hears her chuckle humorlessly and whisper, “Good night, my little prince, sweet dreams.”

* * *

“When are you going to tell him about his adoption, Regina? He’s getting older. He’ll start having questions about his father soon, if he hasn’t already. You’re being irresponsible,” Cora sighs in disappointment.

Regina can’t understand why her mother’s bringing this into light again, and inside her study no less! Henry is prone to overhear this or even already be eavesdropping.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, irritated. “Mother! Please. When the time comes, I’ll talk to him about it. For now, please don’t bring it up to him,” she whispers.

But it’s no use; the damage has already been done.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Regina whips her head so fast her blonde strand becomes visible, and she misses Cora’s lip curl in distaste. She’s paralyzed in fear.

“H-Henry, I can explain, honey,” she lifts her hand as if to soothe him, but he takes a step back.

“It’s true, then?” his voice came as a broken whisper, eyes brimming with yet unshed tears.

“Yes.” her tone matches his. “But you know that I love you, right Henry? _Mijo, no te preocupes, mamá te quiere mucho._ ”

Even though her mother hates when she speaks in Spanish, she has to. Her little boy is scared and confused right now. And it is all thanks to Cora!

Henry nods, dazzled; however, he runs out of the door’s threshold and goes up the stairs to his room anyway. She lets him go with a pang to her heart.

The silence that follows is quickly cut off by her mother. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll come around, Regina.” the brunette’s patronizing tone is noticeable. She probably is busying herself with walking around the study in such a way that it seems she owns it, Regina imagines, standing with her back to her mother like she is. Cora has that sort of… power-hungry aura attached to her like a second skin, and it always makes her unpleasantly tense and guarded.

It is then that Regina grasps at the words Cora had said and turns around.

She wanted this to happen.

But why?

“I can’t believe you did this. Why, mother?” she tries to find an explanation for this nonsensical event. “Why can’t you stand back and meddle on your own affairs? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got matters to attend to, I’ll be in touch soon,” Cora dismisses her questions with no expressions noticeable on her face. The same mask she has often used as well. She briefly touches her daughter’s cheek before taking her leave.

 _‘What do I do now?’_ Regina asks herself, as a single tear cuts through her cheekbone in her despair.

* * *

Roughly one year has passed since The Day - Henry finding out he was adopted before either of them were ready to talk about it. Her little prince is getting taller and older and he already needs a new haircut. He is ten now.

Although they’ve talked extensively about such matters and are in good terms, the brunette fears he’s becoming a little distant as the days pass by.

And her mother instincts don’t fail her, because at that specific October’s 22nd afternoon, something happens. While she is finishing up writing an important e-mail at her office in the Town Hall, her secretary lets her know there’s a call for her. It’s the school.

“Hello, Madame Mayor speaking.”

“Oh, h-hi Madam Mayor, it’s Mary Margaret Blanchard,” she starts with that annoyingly saccharine voice of hers.

“I have no time to exchange pleasantries. What is it that you need, Miss Blanchard.” Regina more or less demands, already sick of this conversation.

“We were wondering whether you picked up Henry after recess.”

“ _What_?” she barks on the phone. “I did no such thing—where’s my son, Miss Blanchard?” Her voice shakes slightly, already imagining worse case scenarios. She absently touches her perfectly hidden strand of blonde hair, which brings her some comfort.

“He didn’t come back after recess, so that’s why we were wond—“

Mary Margaret doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because Regina ends the call and with trembling fingers types the Sheriff’s Office number.

“Sheriff? I think there's a possibility that Henry has gone missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Regina and Emma meet.


	2. Maybe it's magic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re Henry’s birth mother?” the brunette-blonde (what?) asks, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts, maybe? Emma ignores the weird hair for now (that is still fucking glowing!) to smile awkwardly and meekly (too meekly) answer with a “Hi.”_
> 
> A re-writing of their first meeting in 1x01, Pilot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretend Graham wasn't there when they met... Actually, it's my fic, so he wasn't and that's it.  
> Here's the second part, hope you enjoy.
> 
> Happy reading!

“Another banner year.”

Emma Swan has her arms crossed on top of the counter, while she sits on a stool. In front of her, a cupcake with a lit candle resides. She closes her eyes slowly, to make a wish – the same from every birthday. Emma touches her dark chocolate brunette strand of hair as if it will get what she wants.

_I wish to stop being alone._

Instantly after she blows out the candle, her doorbell rings and she jumps; Emma isn’t expecting anyone, least of all today. Opening the door, she first doesn’t see anything, but when she looks down there was a boy. She inwardly groaned. Was he one of those boy scouts who sold cookies? Was it even an appropriate time to be doing that?

“Uh, can I help you?” she asked.

“Are you Emma Swan?”

Whoa, the kid knew her name. “Yeah. Who are you?”

“My name’s Henry,” the brunette paused. “I’m your son.”

* * *

They are in Storybrooke, a small town in Maine that Emma learns of its existence now. The kid seems okay (a little too much smart ass) as far as she can see, and even though he wanted to meet her badly, he seems to regret his decision now.

As it was pointed out by the kid’s psychiatrist, the cul de sac lined with large houses don’t compare with ‘the biggest one on the block’, the thing is huge and inviting even at night. She parks right in front of the house with the tall hedges on each side of a classy gateway. They step out of her trusty lil’ old yellow bug right after.

She’s nervous for some reason. She’s about to meet the parents of the child she gave up for adoption ten years ago. Even worse, he’s the mayor’s kid. Talk about way out of her league.

His demeanor changes in a blink of an eye as she walks toward the gateway and pushes it open.

“Please don’t take me back there.” He pleads, an edge of fear detectable in his tone as they fall in step together.

“I have to. I’m sure your parents are worried sick about you.” She doesn’t even turn around, just continues walking towards the door like a woman on a mission.

“I don’t have parents — just a mom. She doesn’t love me, she only pretends to.” He stops in the middle of the pathway leading to his home.

She stops, turns to him and her heart breaks as she listens to him. Her superpower that knows when someone is lying hasn’t pinged. Whether this is true or not, the kid believes it. “Kid…” Emma crouches to be in his eye-level. “…I’m sure that’s not true,” she tries to reason with him.

“Henry?” a desperate voice calls, and Emma twists her head to the left and her breath is taken away by this woman. This attractive, sophisticated woman. Her cheeks are tear-stained and she’s smiling, relieved.

As the blonde is getting up again, Henry’s mother rushes to him in heels, and how does she manage that is the only question Emma’s mind can formulate at the moment. Another call of “Henry” leaves the brunette’s lips before she’s enveloping him in a hug.

“Oh, are you okay? Where have you been?” Emma watches as she puts her hands on his shoulders, fretting over him for a moment before straightening up again. “What happened?” she briefly glances at Emma and Emma possibly looks as a deer caught in the headlights as she feels.

“I found my real mom,” he says guiltily and doesn’t seem to have the stomach to deal with this right now; he disentangles from his mom and scampers up the stairs on the porch and into the house.

The brunette’s face falls in an instant. Turning slowly to Emma with a shocked expression, they lock gazes for the first time. And that’s when she notices the woman is beautiful up close. Where she’d been only attractive before, now she’s gorgeous. Even with tears and ruined makeup around the eyes. Hair falling to her shoulders all messy and—is that a blonde lock behind her ear? And why does it seem to be glowing faintly? She thought only she had an out of character strand of hair.

“You’re Henry’s birth mother?” the brunette-blonde (what?) asks, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts, maybe? Emma ignores the weird hair for now (that is still fucking glowing!) to smile awkwardly and meekly (too meekly) answer with a “Hi.”

She wants to face palm for that.

* * *

She can't bring herself to call the sheriff and tell him to stop the search party.

Regina studies the woman in front of her from head to toe. She’s insanely attractive. And as her son’s birth mother speaks, her eyes are drawn back to her face and she what she sees right next makes her blink confusedly. First, she’s drawn to her eyes. Her… Blue? No, possibly green orbs.  If she can, she’ll be gazing infinitely into them. As soon as this thought pops up, she’s asking herself, ‘ _What? Where did that come from?’_ But she can’t find an answer. All these thoughts are making her dizzy.

The second thing which makes her pause is her hair. She has a straight, brunette tress close to her face, which doesn’t match the rest of her hair – wavy and gold. And while Regina’s a blonde one in the exact same color as this woman’s hair, the one this stranger possesses has the color of her own. _Why is it glowing?_

They stand there, not able to stop their staring even if they wanted to. And Regina, well, she doesn’t want to. She’s drawn to this woman she doesn’t know the name, who’s come here to bring her son back home. And it’s only now sinking in the fact that this _is_ her little prince’s birth mother. This is crazy. Even crazier, is that Regina is unable to stop herself from reaching out and touching the woman’s soft glowing strand. Regina _never_ acts impulsively.

And then, the inexplicable happens – the electricity that sparks when she accidently touches her skin as well as the hair is overwhelming. She can’t stifle her gasp of shock, and neither does Emma, who’s staring at her wide-eyed.

To her astonishment, the tress seems to glow even more on her fingertips, but even then Regina doesn’t pull away, enchanted as she is.

She doesn’t know what to make of this fact.

The stranger clears her throat and it’s like a bucket of water has been thrown at her, for she hastily removes her hand and cradles it to her chest. “I-I… I’m sorry,” Regina can’t seem to compose herself. “I don’t know what came over me.” She avoids eye contact, her voice hoarse.

“Um… No problem? I guess? What was that?”

“No idea. Maybe it’s magic.” Regina answers, eyes crinkling with amusement. The memory of the same words said by her son a sweet one. She puts her hair behind her ear, forgetting all about hiding her strand now. “I’m Regina Mills,” her lips curl up in what she believes is a welcoming smile. She extends her hand, using a handshake as a poorly masked excuse to have the blonde’s touch again - to learn her name as well.

“Emma Swan,” she says, looking at her hand as she reaches out to gently grasp Regina’s, the pulse of… _something_ affecting them again.

“Thank you for bringing him home, Miss Swan. How would like a glass of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted?” Regina cheekily asks.

“Got anything stronger?” Emma wittily replies.

Regina can’t stop her smile even if she wanted to.

* * *

As he continued watching on, hidden behind his curtains from his window, he can only grin as the two women stand on the pathway still, sparks and colors around them and strands of hair glowing – to which they seem oblivious. He glances up at the sky and whispers, “Thank you, Tinker Bell,” as the same time as a star glows brighter in the sky.


End file.
